


things I can't

by purplesealion2



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Minor Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Pining Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesealion2/pseuds/purplesealion2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Zayn take a shower after being together... and there's crying and pain because Zayn won't ever leave her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things I can't

Sometimes they fuck.

And it’s messy and it hurts some when they are finished because both rush and sex-high fade way too quickly. Harry’s body feels immediately cold in a way it does not feel from just the weather. He feels cold _inside._

For that he’s developed the habit of jumping into shower as soon as his breath has recovered his usual pace.

Zayn usually joins him and it has become a silent ritual of turning off the feeling sex dips them into. Just so they don’t have to stop touching abruptly they get to wash each other backs. And, even though they don’t talk as much as they were doing in bed – definitely not such dirty words –, Harry’s mind can slowly get back to hear Zayn’s voice and not directly think bad things.

Showers do not heal them but it makes it easier to go back to friends-only mode.

So they do it every time.

-

This time, though, this time was different.

The sex had been different was well, not just showering. It may have to do with the fact they fucked because they were screaming and Zayn might have thrown something in Harry’s direction and there were some tears involved. Harry’s not proud to admit they were his tears.

So when Zayn reached for him – not to apologize, really, not to that – they ended up kissing instead of punching each other but the pain was no different. And it was miles away from misplaced hands and over friendly cheek kisses like they would usually do; it was miles away from who they are.

They had torn each other clothes so skin could touch – and bites and fists and cries – and all of that… Well, that never happens. When I was over Harry left the bed scared of what would come next.

But then, when Zayn gets in the shower he talks as if they haven’t stopped arguing at all. As if there weren’t promises and cries just minutes before – as if he hadn’t said Harry’s name over and over and over and over again before exploding inside of him. And that is what hurts the most, even more than what he’s saying: because Harry can’t ignore a second of what has just happened and for Zayn it’s as meaningful as the next thing.

“You say I keep running but you can’t face me for more than a couple of minutes”, he says. And it does not make any sense so Harry is not sure how to answer to that.

He gets the soap as the hot water heats up his body, wetting his hair and embracing his shoulders in a way he can’t count Zayn to do. Not anymore, at least. And as if to prove him wrong that’s where Zayn place his hands – long fingers, rough palm and all – just to get him starring at his brown eyes.

The touch demands words from Harry he’s not quite sure he can keep nice. It’s not much that he wants to go back to the chaos that was just before – he doesn’t – but he can’t function in other mode at the moment so he chooses not to care about it and says it as harsh as it is on his mind.

“I can face you, I just don’t like the way I feel when I do” is what he says.

Through his wet eyelashes – not much from the shower but from the tears he had shared earlier of pain and then pleasure – he can see Zayn almost smirk at that. The frown in his face softs a little and Harry wonders why he could think what he has just said was such a good thing. It’s not, really. It’s the worst.

“And how is that?” Zayn asks. It’s the way he says it that hints he already knows the answer but the other boy is sure he doesn’t. He could never. Not even Harry knew it so clearly before just now.

When he talks he’s not sure his lips are moving. It’s just a word coming out of his heart in one breath and feels ashamed to say that even if he cannot lie to Zayn.

“Torn.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because it gets Zayn’s hand out of him. The hot water touching his shoulder now seems a little bit colder and he faces that exposed and inked skin just to check if it’s still there after Zayn’s left it. The water runs through the side of his face and gets into his mouth, just a little. Just enough to start washing the boy’s taste away and the chlorine feels wrong and harmful in comparison with the sweetness of Zayn’s skin, spit and cum.

The soap in Harry’s hand has been melting and he dips it into water before starting running it through his skin, cleaning the already clean body just because. He lifts his eyes so he can face Zayn once again - whether out of curiosity or because he was just there, inches away from him, and his gaze was so strong it felt like a physical line connecting them both.

Rubbing his body with Zayn’s sad eyes on him is a torture. He feels sad and dirty touching himself so softly in front of such a harsh look. He washes his arms, his stomach and chest and then runs to his sex, getting all resembles of their fluids off him. He goes for his thighs and it gets him leaning on a little, enough to look to Zayn from down up and feels his breath cold in the wet skin of his forehead.

“Bullshit” Zayn finally says and Harry has trouble connecting the words. When he remembers what they were talking about it’s his time to almost smirk and he would if his face wasn’t hurting from all the crying and then holding back the crying.

It is bullshit, Zayn is right. Everything is bullshit between the two of them. Their feelings are bullshit – the fact they even get to have feelings is bullshit. Zayn, on top of all, is bullshit.

It changes nothing, though.

Before he can put the soap away Zayn takes it out of his hands and gestures him to turn around, so he does.

The change of position gets the water running his hair to his face but Zayn can’t see it anymore, facing his back. Harry feels protected. In a way, Zayn could never hurt him if he was out of sight – and that’s also bullshit, he knows. Zayn has hurt him a lot of times and it never mattered where he was – mostly who he was with and that was it.

“You say you don’t leave her because you don’t want to be alone”, and that’s Harry’s turn to pretend the argument had never ended. This doesn’t take him to ignore none of what had just happened. The fuck, the pain, the touches, everything is vivid on his mind. But what he says is a recurrent thought. Sometimes he thinks he could get it inked down in his skin because it’s already written all over his guts. “But you are always with me and never with her so I don’t know how it would make you lonely to finally admit that.”

And it hurts a lot to say, water coming in his mouth and all. His ears are covered by the running water so he only half listens his voice. It helps to mask the way he sounds, like he is dying inside, but he knows it because he feels it deep in his chest.

It could have been his insides coming out of his mouth instead of words and it would feel just the same. Not even Zayn’s hands rubbing his back covered with the soap could distract him from it.

“I’m never with you, H.” is what he listens and the water fails to cover the important thing about the message. The way Zayn doesn’t even sound hurt by it anymore – he just accepts it and says like it’s no big deal. It’s just out there, in that wall of tiles in front of them like a hell of an ugly painting and they have to face it even if they cannot look.

Zayn puts the soap away and holds Harry close, the water wetting them both now. His back is on Zayn’s chest and it’s slippery but it’s warmer than not having him there. Zayn holds him for a while but nothing changes and that proves his previous statement, Harry thinks. It’s like physical evidence that they are never really together because they are way past the happy times. They are way past everything good in this messed up _whatever-this-is_.

Harry takes advantage of the warm water running through his face and cries. Not feeling any tears is a bright spot in all this, but the way his throat aches and his body moves makes it obvious he’s sobbing and Zayn can feel it all directly on his own chest. His body shakes with Harry’s and all but he doesn’t even shiver. He just holds him tighter and waits.

“It would be easier if I could get rid of you”, Harry finally says. The words are formed too fast and he spits some of the chlorine water out as he talks. “If I could look around and you’d not be there to remember me all the _things I can_ _’_ _t_.” Have. Do. Be.

It takes a moment to Zayn say anything back. A moment Harry uses to hope what he has just said hurts Zayn a little bit and gets him as desperate as he is – even if it is for just a second. But he feels like a rock just behind him, doesn’t move and doesn’t ache.

“You could never get rid of me”, Zayn says it like it’s a threat.

But Harry knows better.

Harry knows it’s not.

And as much as Zayn wishes it could be his choice – to just deliberately hurt Harry – it was not up to him on that matter.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! sorry for bad english :)  
> if you care enough to drop a comment or kudos it'll make my day <3


End file.
